


Jump, Then Fall, Then Jump Again

by Thunderrrstruck



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Established Relationship, F/M, Hotels, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderrrstruck/pseuds/Thunderrrstruck
Summary: In hopes of making sure the tour runs smoothly, Shawn and Juliet impose a secrecy lock on their relationship, but coincidental shenanigans, hijinks, and sudden realisations impose a serious threat to their decision.OR, in other words:Shawn, Gus, Jules, and Carlton are part of a band, Karen is their manager, they are on tour for the first time, and Shules is a force to be reckoned with.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Jump, Then Fall, Then Jump Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FanFreak611](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFreak611/gifts).



> A Message to My Secret Santa:
> 
> A massive happy holidays to you, Skipps!! I know how much you love this AU and Shules, so I thought I'd write something that combines the two! I seriously hope you enjoy. You're amazing, ilysm!!

Even the small, controlled snap of his hotel room door rings out loudly against the early morning air. Shawn winces and his hand trails against the handle for a second longer still, ears trained on the noises coming from inside. There’s a grunt and a shift across the mattress, but within a second, the snores of one Burton Guster resume. In good news, his little snap had not stirred his friend from his slumber.

Shawn treads lightly down the hallway. Gentle steps fall on abstract carpet designs, muffling his sneakery even more. Not that it’s needed. At two in the morning, any level headed individual would be fast asleep (including their manager, Karen Vick), leaving the hallways devoid of anyone at all. Shawn, too, should be resting for their next performance this evening, but the adrenaline from last night's concert and afterparty (which Karen warned them against attending) courses through his veins even now. If he listened to the order and stayed under the covers, it would have meant hours of him lying wide awake, staring at an unmarked ceiling. He much rather preferred _using_ the energy he was given.

At the end of the hall, Shawn takes a left into the ice machine’s alcove. Waiting for him is the leather-clad, blonde-haired band mate he expected. As Juliet turns, her freshly unbraided hair cascades around her shoulders like a million small ripples in a pond. Breath rising rapidly in his throat. It’s the little stuff that makes a grown man’s heart beat stronger than a rock song.

“Takes longer each time,” she says, paired with a teasing smile.

“Gus took forever to fall asleep,” Shawn is quick on the defence. “That dude is like the princess and the pea. There’s like an eighty-two percent chance _something’s_ going to wake him.”

Jules hums in response. “Well, if you two hadn’t insisted on rooming together when we were planning this tour, maybe we wouldn’t have had this issue.”

“If I knew _this_ was going to happen–” Shawn gestures between them, “–believe me, I wouldn’t have.”

The closer they drift, the lower his voice drops until he is mumbling across six inches of space. It would be so easy for their noses to touch.

“Now, if only someone had their _own_ room we could meet in,” he starts, raising his brows and giving Juliet a pointed look. He’s met with an exasperated sigh, breath brushing across the half foot and across his cheeks, but he suspects half its sound and force is exaggerated.

“We _can’t_ , not anymore," she reminds, "not since we were almost _caught_!” Her words lace with urgency. Shawn purses his lips in remembrance of their morning in Vancouver. The spark of said night. had led to a morning neither of them had been prepared for.

“No bedrooms, got it,” he summarises with a single nod. “But ice machines? Hell yes.”

Juliet responds with a grin of her own, and before they know it, their lips are once more upon each other’s.

* * *

Soon, there’s sunlight filtering between the cracks of the drapes. In denial of the coming day, Juliet rolls beneath the warm covers to the other side of the bed. In the middle of her roll, however, her body hits something more solid than a pillow – _way_ more solid – and she jolts her head to…

She jolts upright.

“Shawn! What are you doing here?!” she hisses.

A head of messy, brown hair lifts above the comforter, confusion and bleariness all too recognisably written in his features. “I thought we _agreed_!”

“I– what?” he utters slowly. His mouth widens into a yawn.

Juliet wraps her fingers around the edges of her pillow in order to squeeze her nerves into the fluff, but when that doesn't work she jumps off the bed altogether. Mornings, as proven, are the hardest to maintain privacy; they include preparations and schedules, breakfasts and check-ins. _Personal_ check-ins. By the band manager herself! Juliet tries to come up with a game plan for getting Shawn out of there, but every time she attempts a formulation of anything beyond ‘make sure the coast is clear’, her mind spins off course.

“Oh, god.” She plants a palm on her head as images work their way out of her sleepy recollection. Between the kisses and the conversation, she became so enraptured, she defied her own mandates! “How are we supposed to keep this thing under wraps if we do this _every time_?”

Shawn props himself up on an elbow, and Jules knows just by how round his eyes become what will tumble from his mouth. She just knows what he’s about to ask, and she wishes he doesn’t live up to her expectations just this once.

“What if we didn’t?” he asks.

She truly wishes that option is one with which she is comfortable. _I really, really_ do, half of her brain screams. But the tour, the band, she holds her duties in mind and bites her lip.

“Not now, okay?” she says, and it sounds like she’s pleading with Shawn but really she’s pleading with her inhibitions to let her do this one thing. “There’s going to be just a whirlwind and Karen on our case in addition to just the stress of everything go on already, and I don’t want to deal with that yet.” Looking at Shawn might very well unravel her whole case right then and there, but she risks it anyway. “I think we should put it on hold.”

His eyeline drops, and the next few seconds feel like an eternity of silence. He smooths a palm over the side of the mattress.

He untangles his legs from the comforter and pushes himself to his knees. "So, what does that mean?" he asks, shuffling forward across the sheets until he’s directly in front of her. Even with the bed’s height and the squishiness of the mattress, he still has a few inches gained on her. “We can't do any of this?” He takes her hand with a playful grin. “Or this–?” He leans in for a kiss.

Juliet is quick to put up the index finger of her free hand, pressing it into his lips to prevent him from changing her mind. She thinks for the umpteenth time, _We have to proceed rationally!_

“Shawn,” she warns.

“Got it,” he sobers up, leaning back. “None of that until…”

“–Until we figure out what this is,” she finishes.

“Okay.” The way he accepts it sounds something like _your loss_. With a light smirk, he slides off the bed and makes for the door. While he checks the peephole, Juliet scrambles for the doorknob.

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” she instructs, and once he backs out of the way, she props the door open and sticks her head around the corner. She makes a 'hurry' signal for Shawn who spurs into motion and swings into the hallway.

Her back slams the door shut again. Ears wait for the encounter that reveals all, for someone’s door to open and catch Shawn and for the interrogation to begin.

She hears Shawn at the handle of the door across the way – his and Gus' room. _Almost..._

A knock comes from directly behind her, and she leaps out of her skin with a gasp.

"Forgot my key card," mumbles Shawn through the crack. Juliet races from the floor to the desk, swipes a plastic rectangle off the surface, and opens the door a crack so she can toss it out and slam the door shut again. There's a muffled 'thanks' before she hears him swiping at the sensor. She holds her breath for another five seconds, but after the lock clicks into place and silence passes in spades, she dares release her breath. Risky endeavours, these mornings were. _In a perfect world_... Her hopes rise with a thought, but before she can entertain it any further, Juliet forces her mind away from anything except getting ready.

* * *

Mistake number one: Shawn does not apply the same care to shutting his door as he did at two in the morning. He tiptoes inside as the door clicks into frame.

The sound draws a man from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, and who trains a skeptical look upon the intruder.

“Shawn, where’ve you been all morning?” asks Gus.

For such a simple question, Shawn’s mind reels. Thanks to the disorienting notion of waking up and the bomb Jules dropped on him regarding their secret relations ( _which stands,_ _for **now**_ , he reminds himself), his mind is a little more sluggish than usual. “Uhhh, ice bin– ice machine,” he blurts out.

“For half an hour?” challenges Gus.

"Uh, crazy thing happened," he floundered but only for a second, "The one on this floor broke. It's broken. I had to go down a floor and use _that_ machine."

"Okay," Gus drew out, spelling out a circle in the air with his toothbrush. "Where's the ice now?"

Shawn looks down at his hands. "The ice?"

"Yeah, that's what you get from one of those machines."

He lifted his shoulders to his ears. "I gave up. Who needs ice in the morning, anyways?" His subsequent laughter most likely wasn't the most convincing thing in the world.

"Right.." The way Gus’ nose twitches as if smelling something rancid tells Shawn that his best friend remains unconvinced, but instead of pressing the matter further, he rolls his eyes and swiftly marches back into the bathroom. “Just get ready," he says, "we have to be downstairs by nine.”

Shawn’s lips tighten, knowing that he hasn’t convinced Gus of anything; in fact, he may start growing skeptical of any movement Shawn makes from here on out. But the thought of telling him the truth of Shawn's whereabouts flies out of the window.

And anyway, with he and Jules on pause, there’s nothing _to_ be honest about.

* * *

The afternoon interviews go about as smoothly as always. Jokes are cracked, compliments are paid, prying questions are dodged, and by the end of the two hours, Juliet feels better than she had all day. When answering the questions, she can put aside any and all thoughts of Shawn and focus on the work to be done. ( _Mostly_ , for that matter ; as there came that one question about which of her band mates she finds the hottest, and it was all she could do _not_ to picture hazel eyes. She may have dodged that one entirely...)

When she returns to the dressing room, she finds herself with no distractions from recounting recent events, so she busies herself with touching up her lashes.

The notion works well…

…for about three seconds. The thoughts come back.

She sets down the brush and compares both eyes.

 _It’s more than just a fling_ – she knows, feels it. Emotions have been building up for months, long before the tour even. From extended creative sessions to late night jams to recording sessions to concerts big or small, there’s been something in the way they sang together, the way they moved around the stage. Not just any two people can make fireworks out of a performance.

She blinks into the mirror, checking for clumps in her mascara.

 _And maybe it's not something she should pursue, something that passes her by eventually_... well, she can try to convince herself of that, but.. Fleeting feelings don't break rules ten minutes after implementing them. Fleeting feelings don't let their eyes linger on each other longer than necessary during the most mundane hours, like eating lunch or tuning a guitar. Friends don’t recall their other friend’s warmth in the morning with red-tinged cheeks.

Juliet screws the cap back onto her mascara and pushes away from the desk.

Perhaps she was wrong in her whole thought process…

She leaves the room in search of Shawn.

* * *

How much time does it take for one man to find his lady friend? More than an hour, that’s for certain. He roams the halls, passing by nameless crew–members with a basic nods of acknowledgement. As soon as they pass, he hastens his pace again and soon pivots into the dressing room. Much like every other place he checked, the room shelters no one. The lights ringing around the mirrors illuminate empty chairs. No sign of anyone, especially no Juliet.

Shawn turns away. Back down the hall, he goes.

The urgency of his search goes up an incline, hand in hand with the clock ticking down. From an hour out until showtime, to fifty minutes, to forty then thirty then twenty-five, Shawn circles the same halls, bouncing between the same rooms, and wonders what the likelihood is that he keeps missing Juliet’s movements.

By fifteen minutes, he’s back in the dressing room only to be quickly shepherded out by Karen and told to hurry along and warm up on the way.

Shawn begins to jog for backstage. With the ticking clock, at least he will rendezvous with Jules in the wings, but his words might just have to wait until after the show itself.

Sure enough, she stands backstage, biting her bottom lip and glancing at the faces all around. Her eyes, sweeping across the dark floor, cross paths with his... and Shawn falters. He wastes precious seconds admiring how the multicoloured lights from the stage outside halo her head, pinks and purples catching in her blonde stands, turning them into the sweet colours themselves. He nearly forgets everything he wants to say. In fact, he loses the will to say anything at all. It's just her right now:

 _It’s what she wants_ , the back of his mind reminds him. _And it’s your place to listen_.

Her expression hardens while she whisks across the space. Straight for him.

“Jules–” he stutters, but hands suddenly grasp his collar and his subsequent words turn into another set of lips. It takes him a moment to close his eyes and fully comprehend exactly what is happening. He sinks into it, then panics and snaps back a few centimetres. 

“Getting a little careless, here?” he prods in hopes none of his nerves show through.

Juliet works in a breath before starting to explain: “I know– yes, yes, I did." Her eyes pick up from the floor, "but then I realised. After the interviews. I couldn't stop thinking about what this was, and I realised something..."

The hope fluttering in his chest grows warmer by the word, but although it attracts him, he’s tentative; he reaches for it with slow, shaky fingers of thought, scared that if he moves too fast now, it’ll fly away.

“I was just waiting to feel ready, but there's always some rational thing that's going to stop that from happening. From every reporter, every rumour that is going to come, anything, it doesn’t matter,” she says.

“So, all this sneaking around and stuff…”

She shakes her head, dismissing the thought. A soft smile spreads the corners of her lips apart and exhibits a gravity all on its own. A personal gravity, one that only pulls on Shawn.

“It’s worth the jump," Juliet finishes. "Some things are.”

He leans forward at the same time as she, and they’re lips collide. Juliet’s hands slide over his shoulders, his circle around her waist, pulling her into his warmth. Her touch lights him up inside with the display of a thousand fireworks. There’s a roaring in his head, louder than that coming from the stadium. It’s louder than anything he’s ever heard before.

He slips into an alternate plane, one with only the two of them and an infinite allotment of time: “Wanna get out of here?” he teases.

“Shawn, we’re on in like thirty seconds.”

“Oh, right."

Laughter shakes through her, and the sound alone… it might as well be magic, since there is nothing else in the world that could ever cause these feelings in him.

On the stage outside, the sounds of the opening group fade, the cheers of the audience rise, and Shawn becomes keenly aware of how fast the seconds are unfolding. Before him, Guys waves at him to hurry before following Lassie to the stage.

"We should–" He turns to Juliet.

"Probably." A slender hand slips into his before she's surging forward, spurring him on for the ride.

Waves of appreciation crash upon his ears, the raw might of a thousand-plus fans. He and Jules march together, heads held high, drinking it all in.

And even as they unclasp their hands to take up their starting positions; even as Shawn takes hold of the microphone and cleanses himself with an inhale, he glances back at her and knows one thing – just _one_ thing – for certain:

Nothing can stand in their way.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All my band tour knowledge comes from _A Hard Day's Night_ and that one Coldplay concert I attended in 2017. Suffice it to say, I know exactly what I'm doing. :P


End file.
